Sick Day
by Kitty O
Summary: John's sick and Sherlock's driving him crazy, so Mary takes Sherlock out for some crime-solving bonding. Oneshot. Canon pairings, mostly Mary/Sherlock friendship. For she-was-a-rose's prompt.


To: Mary Morstan: **Mary, help me. I may actually kill him. –JW**

To: John Watson: **I'm at work. Sherlock's there to take care of you. –MM**

To: Mary Morstan: **He wants to disassemble the cat. –JW**

To: Sherlock Holmes: **DON'T TOUCH THE CAT. –MM**

To: John Watson: **I'm coming home. –MM**

To: Mary Morstan: **Cat prime place to plant a bomb. Will not injure it. –SH**

To: Mary Morstan: **Hurry! – JW**

To: Sherlock Holmes:** That's not what John says. –MM**

To: Mary Morstan:** John is ill. –SH**

To: John Watson:** I'm hurrying. –MM **

Mary pulled her coat off as she walked through the door of the house, where John was staying for the day while he was off work, ill. Sherlock had been perfectly willing to watch over his former flatmate while Mary went to work.

But Mary, John had said, I'll be fine alone.

Mary reminded him about Project: Remind Sherlock He Isn't Losing His Best Friend, or Code: Beth. So Sherlock had come by, and Mary had told him to make sure that John stayed hydrated, making sure to add a smile and a, "What would we do without you, Sherlock?" That made the curly-haired man happy, even though he didn't want to show it.

Now, John and Mary locked eyes and she read his message loud and clear. The world had had enough dead Sherlock Holmes for the next fifty years or so.

"Sherlock," said Mary. "John looks tired. Let's me and you go out."

Sherlock, who had been far away from the cat by the time she came in, looked shocked. "I thought I was staying here for the day. His fever may go up."

"He'll give us a call if that happens," Mary said. "Besides, the wedding is in a few weeks – I need a break from it. Let's go solve crimes. I don't get to solve crimes with you."

"Well," Sherlock said, looking uncomfortable as he smoothed over his shirt and stood in their doorway. "Truly, working with me does require a certain level of – "

"John, we'll be back. We're going to solve crimes. I'll text you if anything exciting happens!" She grabbed Sherlock by the arm and dragged him from the building, smiling blindingly. John, still holed up in his bed, waited until he heard the door slam before he collapsed in relief and closed his eyes.

The texts started coming an hour later.

To: John Watson:** The horse killed him; no foul play. –MM**

"How's the best man speech going, then?"

"Exceptionally."

"You still panicked about it?"

"I'm an excellent writer. I have written several books, including a manual of –"

"Ask Lestrade. He'll be able to help you out. What's next then?"

To: John Watson: **I thought it was the ex-fiancé who had been tortured during the war, but SH says innocent. –MM**

"Don't worry, Sherlock. I wanted it to be the fiancé too."

"I did not want it to be anyone. I work on facts, not personal vendettas."

"I'm sure Tom isn't as nice as that man was. I don't really like him, you know."

"Tom?"

"Molly's fiancé. He's really much too bland for her."

"I think Molly prefers bland, as opposed to sociopathic. Besides, she is happy. That's important."

"It is?"

"Yes, poor mental health can lead to physical complications and illness, especially when a high level of stress is present."

"So, you aren't secretly deducing him in your head, thinking he's really an ax-murderer or anything?"

"Mary, we have more crimes to get to. Your small-talk is slowing us down."

To: John Watson: **I'm pretty sure we just saw a celebrity commit murder and I'm not supposed to tell you. –MM**

"Mycroft will take care of everything."

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Um… sure."

To: John Watson: **Spotted snake. He's on a roll. –MM**

"Sherlock, you are quite an energetic man. I'm sure John can't wait to get back on his feet and helping you out."

"I'm less sure. He seems to prefer spending time with his job."

"Well, he has to make money. You know there's no way John's going to let your time for adventures slip away, don't you?"

"Naturally."

"Don't you, Sherlock? Sherlock…"

To: John Watson: **I love you. –MM**

To: John Watson: **Sorry. Don't panic. Got shot at, Sherlock kept his head. Fine now. –MM**

To: John Watson: **Not injured. Neither of us. Stay in bed. –MM**

"Are you feeling well? Mary?"

"I'm fine; I'm fine… You're sure you're okay, though?"

"Yes, they had appalling aim."

"Good… good… We can keep looking for cases, then. We can…"

"Ah. I think perhaps it would be better if we stopped for dinner now, instead."

"No, I'm fine; I'm…"

"Shaking like a leaf, nervously checking your phone to see if John has texted you back or called you, and picking at your fingernails as you haven't done since you were a teenager – I'm quite satisfied, are you?"

Mary shuddered. "Let's go to dinner," she said, and let Sherlock Holmes lead her with one arm. Not that she needed the support, but she appreciated the gesture.


End file.
